


And the Snow Still Falls

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Medium Length
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-09
Updated: 2002-12-09
Packaged: 2019-04-27 05:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14418876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: Mulder and Scully are forced to attend the Bureau Christmas Party and Scully copes with her annual holiday pain.





	And the Snow Still Falls

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

 

And the Snow Still Falls

## And the Snow Still Falls

### by Caroline McKenna
    
    
         Title: And the Snow Still Falls
         Author: Caroline McKenna 
         Spoilers: Small Potatoes, Tooms, Detour, How the Ghosts Stole
         Christmas, Triangle, Beyond the Sea, Christmas Carol/Emily, The
         Blessing Way, Never Again, Fight the Future, The Field Where I Died,
         set before Millennium. 
         Teaser: Mulder and Scully are forced to attend the Bureau Christmas
         Party and Scully copes with her annual holiday pain. 
         Category: SRA
         Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance
         Rated: light R or strong PG-13
         Feedback: I LOVE feedback! Praise, flames, constructive criticism,
         whatever! 
         Disclaimer: I don't own them, I never will. They belong to Chris
         Carter, FOX, 1013 Productions, and I like to think they belong to GA
         and DD. They're not mine. Don't rub it in. Also, "When You Say Nothing
         At All" belongs to Alison Krauss, and "I Do (Cherish You)" is done by
         98* No copyright infringement intended.
         Archiving: Yes, just tell me where you're taking it, and include my
         name and email
         Authors Note: At the end. 
    

* * *

August 19, 2002 

"I'm sorry, agents, but you aren't getting our of this one," said Assistant Director Skinner as we entered the room, taking our sears in front of his desk, He knew exactly why we are here. 

Mulder groaned loudly, letting everyone in the building know exactly how he feels about the annual Bureau Christmas Party which is the matter in question. 

Both Mulder and I had gotten invitations on our desks this morning. Well, his desk, actually, since I don't have one. Anyway, Mulder had dug up an old X-File we could pretend to investigate in order to ditch yet another Bureau function. 

"But sir, we have a..." 

"Agent Mulder, you do not have a case. The only thing you'll be investigating this weekend is whether or not the fruit punch is spiked." 

"But why, sir?" I ask, although fully aware of the answer. The question is more for Mulder than for myself, though I suspect he knows also. 

"Because, Agent Scully, neither you nor Agent Mulder have attended a single Bureau party in your years with the FBI." 

I glance at Mulder. "Do you think that's on accident?" he retorts, speaking for both of us. 

"He has a point, sir," I agree in case Skinner missed our little bit of silent communication. He often does. 

But Skinner paid no mind to our protests, "I expect to see you at 8 o'clock sharp, December 26th. Be there of suffer a substantial cut in your paychecks." 

With that, Mulder led me out the door, his hand at the small of my back. 

"Can he do that?" I hiss as we walk through the halls of the J Edgar Hoover Building. "Cut our paychecks, I mean?" 

"He's our boss, Scully He can do whatever he wants with our paychecks," Mulder replied bitterly, furrowing his brow. 

"True." 

I nodded, though I was fuming inside. I have a reason that I don't attend the Bureau's Annual Christmas Bash. Reasons that no one else needs to know. The holidays have become too painful for me. With my fathers' death back in 1993 then Melissa's, the Christmas table has seemed so empty. Now it's just me, Mom, Bill, Tara, and sometimes Charlie and his wife, Brooke. 

And then there was Emily. My daughter, Emily. Poor, sweet, innocent Emily, the miracle that wasn't meant to be. She's be six this year, if she had lived. Another hole in my heart to be felt during the holiday season. Seeing my nephew, Matthew, will only rub salt in the still fresh wound. 

And last year, God! Last Christmas I spent with Mulder in some haunted house, and we nearly ended up shooting each other because of a couple of ghosts. Not the most pleasant of holidays, but at least we had managed to weasel our way out of the party. 

This year will be different. This year, instead of drowning my sorrows in a pint of Ben and Jerry's alone on my couch, I get to wallow in my pain at some stupid shindig with a bunch of loud and drunk federal agents. 

Not exactly my cup of tea. Oh, and throw in the fact that I don't really know anyone. After being locked in the basement with Mulder for the last seven years, I haven't exactly made a whole lot of friends at worst. 

But no need to worry! My reputation as Mrs. Spooky precedes me. And I'm supposed to bring a date to this thing. How do I get a date when I'm Mrs. Spooky, already wed to the Bureau's most unwanted? Not that the thought of marrying Mulder is repulsive, only unwanted right now. 

Anyway, he probably gates my nickname more than I do. Knowing that he has a missus, at least at work, may prevent some women from going out with him. Granted, those must be some pretty dumb women, but still... 

"Scully? Did you hear a word I said?" 

"Huh?" We are back in our basement office and he is looking at me sternly over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. God, he looks sexy when he does that. He really shouldn't do that. 

"I was just saying that the case can wait until after Christmas. I, for one, need this week's paycheck." 

I nod, "So do I. Christmas shopping and all." I didn't mention, of course, that most of this weeks pay was already spent on gifts. Or, more accurately, one gift. His. Mulder and I don't really exchange gifts, much less expensive ones, but when I saw it in the shop's window, I couldn't resist. 

Glancing at the clock, I gather my purse and coat. "I'm going home, Mulder. See you tomorrow." 

Before I can head out the door, he responds, "A date with Ben and Jerry, huh?" 

I smile. He understands, of course he does. I know for a fact that Christmas has always been hard for him too. His family basically dissipated after his sister's abduction, leaving Mulder lonely, especially in times of cheer. 

"Yeah. If you'd like to stop by later, we could make it Ben, Jerry, and Mulder." I keep the invitation casual, like it always is, but I know we both need company tonight. 

"Sure, sounds great. 7?" 

I agree and then head home. 

* * *

Goddamnit, it's 6:43. Mulder will be here in 15 minutes and I look like I just woke up. Well, I kind of did, but that's not the point. 

It was only going to be a ten minute catnap, I swear. The stress must really be getting to me, more so than I thought. 

So, here I am, sitting up in bed, hair mussed an clothing wrinkled, staring at my bedside clock. What a wonderful plan of action. 

I have time for a quick shower, so I throw back the covers and go to the connecting bathroom, stopping to grab a fluffy white bath towel. 

I peel off my work attire; a white blouse, now wrinkled from sleep, a knee length black skirt, and matching black jacket. Before I fell asleep, I had gotten rid of my heels and pantyhose. Thank God for small favors. 

While I turn on the water, I unclasp my bra, and shimmy out of my panties. 

Once the water is at a decent temperature, I step in and turn on the shower. 

The warm water courses down my body, caressing me. I close my eyes, it feels so good. Alas, the water is no substitute for what I really want. As good as the tiny drops feel, Mulder's hands running up and down my naked body would feel ten times better. 

'No, Dana,' I reprimand, 'Don't even go there.' 

Going where my mind was taking me would only make things worse. Especially when the object of my every waking and dreaming fantasy will be at my house in 15 minutes. I definitely have to keep my mind out of the gutter. 

I have something to confess. I want my partner in a very non-partner-like way. There is a burning desire ignited in my body every time we touch. Be it an accidental brushing of bodies due to the close proximity of our office, or a deliberate hand hold when one of us is injured, it has the same result. Immediate arousal. 

We've even shared a few forehead kisses. I can't even begin to describe what that did to me. All I know is that my rational mind takes over and hauls the rest of me out of there whenever these situations arise. 

Of course, that doesn't happen every time. God, if it did, there would be no way I could work with the man. There are times when we can touch and pal around like old friends, and it hardly bothers me at all. 

I can't even imagine what I'd do if he actually, really kissed me. But, maybe that's half the fun of wanting Mulder, the imagining. 

Do I love him? Yes, of course I do. Am I in love with him? I don't know. According to my mother, I am. I'll bet she checks her mail for a wedding invitation everyday. But what does she know? 

Anyway, even if I was in love with Mulder, I know for a fact that he doesn't see me as anything more than a friend. I think. There was that time in his hallway tow summers ago. Damn bee. But, he was just trying to keep me from leaving the Bureau. 

And he told me he loved me, after his escapade in the Bermuda Triangle. However, he couldn't have meant it because Mulder was on so much Demerol that he should have been floating ten feet above his hospital bed. He was delirious. 

After I finish washing myself, pushing all thoughts of Mulder to the back of my mind, I step out of the shower a new woman. 

Squeaky clean and wide awake, I wrap a towel around me. I pull on a pair of loose fitting jeans and a mint green tee-shirt. 

Just as I glance at my watch there is a knock at my door. So much for the quick blow-dry I was hoping to get in. It's 7:02. Mulder's on time for once. I'm impressed. 

"Come in!" I holler as I run the brush through my tangled auburn hair, darkened by the water. 

The door opens and I hear the click telling me that he's closed it behind him as well. 

"Make yourself at home," I say as I enter the room, to find Mulder already seated on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. 

"Hey Scully," he says, giving me the once-over. Once I'm sure I've passes, I seat myself beside him on the couch, careful not to make any physical contact. 

"Hey Mulder." 

"I brought movies." He motions to a stack of three videos on the table. I inspect them. 'The Godfather', 'Independence Day', and 'Saving Private Ryan,' 

"Guy movies, Mulder?" I say, arching a single eyebrow his way. 

"Not entirely, Scully. I got a chic-flick for you, too." He pulls out a video from behind his back and holds it out to me. 'When Harry Met Sally' Coincidence? I hope not. 

"Thanks Mulder." 

"And they're not all guy movies. Independence Day should have enough mush to hold you over." 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mulder," I smile sweetly, "It's not a guy movie, it's an alien movie," I say the last part sarcastically and he grins that lopsided grin of his. 

"Who knows, Scully, maybe we'll learn something. You know, an educational film" I snort, trying not to laugh and failing miserably. Poor Mulder, looking for an X-File in everything. 

We watch the first two movies, 'The Godfather' and 'Independence Day' then decide to forgo 'Saving Private Ryan' and go straight to my movie. 

"Any particular reason why you chose When Harry Met Sally, Mulder?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual, although falsettos of emotion were threatening to crack through my facade. 

"Your mother recommended it," he declared simply, popping the tape in my well-used VCR. 

I groaned inwardly. Mom. She knows the message in this movie. She's meddling again. I'll have to remember to thank her. 

We settle in again, no words spoken between us except for an occasional "Pass the popcorn" of a comment about how ditzy Meg Ryan is. 

Then, the blonde actress does her famous restaurant scene, where she fakes orgasm. I can feel Mulder's eyes boring into the side of my head. Against my better judgment, I turn to him. 

"Do you really do that?" he questions, pausing the film. 

"What?" 

"Do you women really fake orgasm to end sex?" He seems genuinely curious, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his mind, wondering if anyone has ever fooled him. 

"I suppose some do, Mulder. Depends on the man's performance." This is not the subject I want to be getting into. Not on my couch with Mulder and with my bedroom only meters away. 

"Have you?" The question takes me by surprise. Mulder and I rarely ask personal questions., let alone ones of a sexual nature. 

"Uh..." What am I supposed to say? It's Mulder, for God's sake! 

"You don't have to answer, Scully," he assures me. 

"No!" I blurt out, "No, I haven't. It's always real." 

I don't know why I told him, the information just popped out. I really shouldn't have told him, its just another thing to feed my fantasy factory. 

"Oh really, Agent Scully?" 

I blush furiously, the color rising to the roots of my hair. It's the curse of being a redhead; when you blush, it shows. 

Grabbing the remote from his hand, I press 'Play' and we continue watching without interruption. During some of the more sexual scenes, I catch Mulder glancing my way, but I pay it no mind. 

An hour and two pints of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream later, Mulder and I are saying our good-byes. 

"Hey, Scully?" he says before walking out my apartment door. 

"Yeah Mulder?" 

"What do you think about the whole Bureau party thing?" 

It's an odd question, but such things can be expected from Mulder. Spooky and all. 

"Well, the profits go to charity, so that's good. And... It could be... fun. I guess." Boy, how unconvincing do I sound? 

"Well, you know how we're supposed to bring dates?" He tries to keep his voice steady, not being incredibly successful. 

Oh my God, he's going to ask me to go with him! And then I'll have an excuse to touch him. Perfect! I can see it now, Mulder and I walking arm in arm, him in a tuxedo, and me in some beautiful gown and glass slippers. He'll sweep me off my feet and... 

"Would you, um...me, uh... I hear Agent Harris is going to ask you." And with that, he rushes out the door, practically slamming it behind him. 

He chickened out! I can't believe he chickened out! That is so not Mulder... Fearless Fox Mulder, who has faced death and Flukemen more times than I care to count, chickened out. Unless he really wasn't going to ask me. That is quite a sobering thought. 

What if it never even crossed his mind? 

Then what was tonight for? And those questions about how I orgasm? No, I think he was going to ask me, but he got nervous. Typical man. But not typical Mulder. 

I guess I'll have to convince him that there's no one I'd rather go to this stupid dance with. 

Boy, I've go my work cut out for me. 

* * *

"Good morning, Mulder," I say causally as I stride into our office the next morning. 

"Oh, hey Scully," he replies, equally casual, looking up from a stack of papers. "Look at this." 

I walk to his desk and peer over his shoulder. Mulder is looking at several photos, all of which look distinctly similar. Symmetrical, you could say. 

"Crop circles, Mulder?" 

He stares intently at the pictures as he nods, "Yeah, just last week, a couple appeared right outside of Des Moines, Iowa." 

"Mulder, Skinner has made up his mind, You're not going to get out of that party and you know it." 

He sighs, dropping the material and rubbing his eyes. "I know. You're right. Still, it might be something to look into after the New Year." 

"Maybe, Mulder." I rise from my bent over position as the door opens. 

"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, good morning." 

Oh great, it's Agent Harris. Tall, blonde, gorgeous Agent Tony Harris. 

"Agent Harris," Mulder says coolly, his gaze never leaving me. 

"Agent Harris," I echo. 

"Actually, Dana, I'd like to talk to you." Looking at Mulder, he adds, "In private." 

"Whatever you have to say to me, Agent Harris, you can say it in front of Agent Mulder. I assure you, he won't break confidence." 

I grab Mulder's arm when he starts to leave. "Stay, Mulder," I whisper, barely audible, but I know he heard me because he stops moving. 

"Uh..." Agent Harris looks decidedly uncomfortable. Good. "Dana, will you go to the Bureau Christmas Party with me?" 

Points for bravery. That took guys, especially since I still have a hold on Mulder's arm. For that, I'll let him down gently instead of dropping the man like a rock. 

"I'm sorry, Agent Harris. I already have a date." 

He looks so dejected as he makes his way out the door that I almost feel sorry for him. Almost, but not quite. 

"Well, if you ever want to go for a drink or something, Agent Scully..." he trails off and leaves the office. 

I feel Mulder staring at me. "You have a date?" He's making another attempt at casual, but his voice cracks ever so slightly. 

"No, I lied. I just didn't want to go with him, that's all." 

"Why not?" I raise an eyebrow. "What I meant to ask was what you look for in a guy." 

I'm shocked. This is so strange for us; these personal questions. "I dunno, Mulder. Every man is different." 

"What was wrong with Agent Harris then?" 

"He's not my type. I tend to go for the tall, dark, and handsome look. Besides, there's someone else I'd rather go with." Okay, I know. I'm really going out on a limb here. If Mulder doesn't see who I'm talking about, he's even more thick-headed than I thought. 

"Oh. Who would that be?" The man never ceases to amaze me. 

"Mulder, what good is an Oxford education if you can't even figure this out?" At his blank look, I answer his question. "You, I want you to take me, Mulder. I don't really known anyone else." 

"Oh. I see." 

Is that all this man can say? Must be a guy thing, because I recall hearing the exact same, less than brilliant phrasing when I was younger. It ticked me off then too. 

"Well, you wanna go, Mulder?" Where all this courage came from, I don't know, but I'm sure glad it's here. 

"Yeah, sure. I can pick you up early and we could do dinner." 

I smile, "As long as dinner has nothing to do with take-out Chinese food or pizza, I'm in." 

"Why, Scully, you wound me!" He smiles too, a 100 watt smile and we get on with our work, though I have some trouble keeping my full concentration on the expense reports we are supposed to be working on. 

"Hey Mulder," I say after a while. "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" 

He looks confused. "What's tomorrow?" 

I roll my eyes. The man is completely clue less. "Christmas, Mulder. Tomorrow is Christmas Day." 

"Oh, I see. Well, I thought I'd sit down with my fish and watch 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' Either that or 'It's a Wonderful Life'." 

"Well, why don't you come to my mothers'? She told me to invite you, and I'd like to come. And I'm sure your fish wouldn't be too disappointed." 

My courage is still here. Probably something in the coffee. 

"Uh, sure, Scully. Sounds like fun. But, uh, will Bill be there?" 

"Yeah, but Mulder don't worry about him. I'm sure Mom'll keep him at bay." 

Did I mention that my brother hates Mulder? He blames him for everything bad that's happened to me. My abduction, Missy's death, my cancer, Emily. Bill has no clue as to the good things Mulder has brought into my life. Bill is an idiot. (My best friend Sam lays copyrights to that sentence) 

"Okay, I'll go. What time?" 

"Well, family roll call starts at six..." 

"But, six at night, right, Scully?" he interrupts and I laugh. 

"No, Mulder. Six AM." 

His eyes go wide at the thought and his jaw drops. "Tell you what, Mulder," I offer, "You can stay at my place tonight. My couch is always open, and then we can drive to Mom's in the morning. " I really like this coffee. I have to get some more. 

"Six?" Mulder squeaks. The man is not a morning person. 

"Yes, Mulder. It won't be that bad. I'll even make you a good old Colonial breakfast." I flash him a rare, full toothed grin. 

"I didn't know you could cook, Scully" 

"You'll have to find out." And with that, we went back to work, filling out those expense reports for Skinner. 

* * *

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!" I call into the living room where Mulder lay, peacefully sleeping. 

It's 5:15 and I'm up and ready to go. That is not the case with Mulder, however. 

He groans loudly in protest. "Sculllyyyy!" 

I pull him into a sitting position on the couch. "You have to get up, Mulder. It takes half an hour to get to Mom's and you still need to get dressed." 

I look pointedly at the black silk boxers he is wearing. I don't think Mulder owns a single pair of pajamas, not that I mind, of course. 

We had a fairly normal evening. We watched Saving Private Ryan and then played Yatzee for an hour. It was more fun than I've had in a long time. Well, since he came over to watch movies the other day, anyway. 

"Do I gotta, Scully?" he slurs. 

"Yeah." I grab his hand and yank him to his feet. "C'mon, I made bacon and eggs. Hope you like them scrambled." 

"Sure. Thanks, Scully." 

"He runs a hand through his already mussed hair. Now it's all standing straight up. God, he looks adorable. I have this motherly urge to pat down the stray locks. 

I settle for brushing a piece of chestnut brown hair off his forehead. 

"Get dressed, Mulder, and I'll fix you a plate," I command, sending Mulder into my bedroom to change. 

I'll admit, that's not the ideal reason to have Mulder in my room. I'd much rather have him in there undressing me than dressing himself, but there will be time for that later. 

By the time Mulder returns to the kitchen, I have both our plates made up. 

"Here you go, Mulder." I hand him a plate piled with fluffy yellow eggs and crisp bacon. I never really liked the wiggly bacon, so I perfected it the way I like it. 

"Oooh, Scully, you can cook!" he says, his mouth full of food. 

"You doubted me?" 

He smiles goofily at me. "Hurry up, Mulder. I already have all the presents packed in the car and if we're late, Mom'll get suspicious over nothing. She's almost as bad as you with your crazy theories." 

Did I mention I bought some new coffee after work yesterday and I've already had three cups? I don't know what ingredient they put in this stuff, but I sure like the extra bravery it provides. 

Shoving one last bit of egg in his mouth, Mulder follows me out the door, locking it behind him. Always Mr. Paranoid. 

The car ride is peaceful, probably due to the early hour of the morning. I drive, and Mulder sleeps in the passenger side most of the way. 

Annapolis isn't very far from Washington DC, and there isn't any traffic this morning. Most people fly out to see their relatives for the holidays, I guess. 

We pull up to my mother's white Victorian home, and there are already three cars in the driveway. Two rentals; Bill and Charlie's, and my mother's Buick. 

"Wake up, Mulder. We're here." I shake his shoulder gently then unbuckled my seat belt. 

Wordlessly he gets out of the car and helps me with the gifts I have stored in my trunk. The perfect gentleman. 

"Thanks Mulder," I say as we walk to the front door. 

"No problem, Scully." 

I ring the doorbell and my mother answers, pulling me into a tight hug. "Dana, hi! Merry Christmas." 

"Merry Christmas, Mom." 

She ushers us inside, taking the gifts from my weary arms. Upon returning, she greets Mulder. 

"Fox, so glad you could make it. I'm sure Dana's just tickled pink to have you here." Mulder hugs my mother and they strike up small talk before moving from the foyer to the living room where we can stash the presents. 

Just as I suspect, Bill is less than thrilled to see my partner walking through the doorway. He scowls the infamous Scully-scowl and his eyes are shooting daggers Mulder's way. 

"Merry Christmas, Bill," I attempt, approaching my brother. He hugs me stiffly then hisses into my ear. 

"What is he doing here?" His voice hold the venom of hatred as he stares maliciously at Mulder. 

"He's here because I want him to be, Bull. And, if you aren't nice, remember that I own a licensed firearm and I know damn well how to use it." He glances down at my hip, and I pull back my coat just enough for him to get a glimpse of my SIG Saur 9mm. 

"That's your problem, Dana. He's blinded you." 

"No, Bill," I whisper, "You've blinded yourself with your ego, machismo, and pessimistic tendencies. Mulder has opened my eyes." I walk away in a huff. My brother is such a dumb-ass. 

Then I am hit with 45 pounds of nephew. I wrap my arms around the small child, a feeling of longing fills my heart. This is what I'll never have, what I want so badly. The love of a child. My child. 

"Auntie Dana," the three year old gurgles. 

"Hi, Matty. Merry Christmas." I smile through the tears threatening to cascade down my cheeks. 

"M'ry Kistmaz. Why Auntie Dana cry?" 

Kids really do say the damnedest things. The attention of the room is turned to me. In the eyes of every one of them, I see sympathy. They all knows what happened with Emily, and they feel bad. They all know of my barrenness, and they feel worse. 

"I'm not, honey, I'm fine." I swipe at my eyes with one had, still cradling Matthew with the other. 

"Then why y'r eyes awl wet?" 

What am I supposed to say to that? Luckily, Mulder saves me. 

"Aunt Dana has a cold." He pried the boy out of my arms and sent him to Tara, his mother. To me he says, "Come on, Dana." 

I don't protest as he lease me by the hand into the nearest room with a door. Coincidentally, it's my old bedroom. 

He sits with me on the bed as I cry, rubbing my back and stroking my hair soothingly. 

Never once did he try to tell me that it was okay, because it wasn't and he knew it. That's one of the things I love most about Mulder. He's the most honest person I have ever met, completely truthful in almost everything. 

The words he whispers to me are comforting, and always true. 

Finally I turn to him, allowing myself to need him. His arms come around me, so soft, yet so strong. 

"Shh, Scully. There's still hope." 

And I know he's not lying. 

* * *

When we emerge from the room, the rest of the family is awaiting us. Awaiting me. 

I still hold Mulder's hand, as if I need to touch him to have some tangible hold on reality. To be real. 

"Dana," It's Charlie, little brother Charlie who I rarely see. 

"Charlie!" Letting go of Mulder's hand, I launch myself into my brothers arms. 

"Dana, are you okay?" he says through my hair. "I saw the scene back there with Matty. I'm sorry." 

I nod and release him. Charlie looks at Mulder with curiosity. Mulder has never met my younger brother, though he's heard stories, mostly from Mom. 

"Charlie, this is my... Mulder. Mulder, meet Charlie." 

The men shake hands. Very macho. Mulder seems almost tentative, probably hoping this one isn't anything like Bill. 

"I've heard a lot about you, Mulder." 

"Please disregard anything Bill told you. He doesn't know Mulder very well," I say when I realize that most of the information he's received has been from my older brother. 

Charlie smiles. He's always been the friendly one in the family. 

"So you do exist!" Mulder says, attempting to break the ice. 

"Yeah, sorry to dissipate that myth." 

"I was beginning to wonder." The two men laugh and I smile, glad that Charlie seems to like Mulder well enough. 

Lunch is rather uneventful and even though Charlie and Brooke's daughter bears a striking resemblance to Emily, I manage to keep my cool. I had calmed down, put up my armor and shut away my tears. No more water works today. 

"Come on, Aunt Dana, let's go open presents," says Laura, Charlie's oldest at 14. It continually amazes me how even teenagers can become like little children around Christmas. I wish the season did the same for adults. 

We go into the living room ahead of everyone else, and as soon as we're out of ear shot, she begins speaking. "He's cute!" 

"Who?" I ask, befuddled. 

"That Mulder guy." 

"Mulder?" I always found him attractive, but I thought that was just me.. and, well, half the human population. 

"Yeah. You are so lucky to have a hot boyfriend. My guy, Jeremiah, he's cute and all, but nothing like Mulder." 

I roll my eyes, having heard the same thing many times before, "Mulder is not my boyfriend, Laura." 

Catching my by surprise, tow arms encircle my waist from behind. I look up, only to have Mulder drop a kiss on my lips. 

"Hey, honey. Ready to open that present I got you?" 

That sneaky little son of a... 

Laura giggled and left the room, and as soon as she did, I shrugged out of Mulder's cuddly embrace. 

"Mulder! What was that?" I demand, my hear fluttering. Damn him, he always has that effect on me. 

"Sorry, Scully. Couldn't resist. I had to humor the girl. She thinks I'm hot." 

"Sure you did, Mulder." 

Then Matt comes racing into the room. I don't know where the kid got all his energy, but he sure is active. 

"Unkie Muddah!" he cries and leaps into my partner's waiting arms. He lifts Matthew off his feet and twirls him around twice, then sets him back down. 

"You ready to open some gifts, buddy?" 

"Yeah!" 

The rest of the family pours into the room, all equally excited. 

Mom doles out the gifts and when she's done, I find myself sitting behind a pile of six nicely wrapped presents. 

As I open them, I discover treasure of all different kinds. 

I found the gift of youth in the homemade presents from my niece and Matty. Laura drew me a picture of a lilac to realistic that I could have smelled its' sweet scent. Matty gave me a handprint in plaster of Paris. I got one from my niece Sarah as well. I think all little children make those things. Mom might still have the one I made at 4 years old. 

From Bill and Tara I received the gift of innocence. Bath oils, salts and beads, with fuscia scented bubble bath. Tara knows me well, because Bill would never have gotten me something so feminine. 

I got fun from Charlie and Brooke with the baseball bat and glove. Glancing at Mulder, I smile. I'm sure he'll enjoy those gifts too. 

And my mother, my nosy, meddling mother gave me a copy of 'When Harry Met Sally'. God, I love her. 

"Thanks everyone," I say, going through a round of hugs. 

The rest of the family opened their gifts and then my mother handed Mulder a packaged delicately wrapped in silver paper. 

I can't believe she bought him something. I hope it's not a box of condoms, or the like. Knowing my mother, though, I wouldn't put it past her. 

Alas, she mustn't have thought of it because when Mulder tore off the wrapping paper, I got a good look at what my mother had given him. An 8x10 picture of me. Just before senior prom. 

Mulder's eyes go wide and his jaw drops ever so slightly. 

I still remember what I wore that night. My dress was two pieces, royal blue, and silk. The skirt was simple and straight, yet it flowed when I walked. It had a tight bodice that crisscrossed in the back. My hair was taken back into a French twist, with a set of corkscrew curls framing my face. I was dynamic that night. 

"Mulder, put your tongue back in your mouth," I chide playfully. 

He looks up at me, his hazel eyes dancing. Our eyes met, if only for a moment, and then he looked at my mother. "Thank you, Mrs. Scully." 

"You're welcome, Fox." My mother sounds way too please with herself. She'll probably be expecting a baby announcement instead of the wedding invitation. 

And hey, you won't hear me complaining. 

I glance at my watch. It's nearing 4 o'clock. Where did all the time go? 

We visited with my family until 9 when Matty and my 5 year old niece Rebecca started to yawn. 

"G'nite, Unkie Muddah," says Matty, who has officially dubbed my partner his uncle. I must say, it's amusing to say the least, to watch Mulder entertain my nephew. The kids just adore him, Laura especially, who won't let he man have a moment of peace. Not that he really minds, of course. He'd make a great father. 

"Goodnight, Matty." 

Tara escorts her son to bed and I turn to Mom. 

"We had better go. I still have to drop Mulder off at his apartment in Arlington, and we have to work tomorrow." 

"The day after Christmas, Dana?" 

"Well, not work in the technical sense of the word," I say as Mulder comes up to stand beside me. "Our boss is making us go to this Bureau party thing. Feels like work." 

Mom gives me a knowing look, the one that says 'I know what you're up to young lady' 

"And you're going together, I suppose?" 

"Well, um, yeah." 

"That's right Mrs. Scully. Dana and I are inseparable when it comes to that kind of thing." He slips his arm around my waist and looks at Bill who is glaring fiercely at us. 

Deciding to join in on the fun, I smile at my brother, then stand on my tiptoes and lightly kiss Mulder's lips. 

I'm telling you, I love that coffee. Bravery non-withstanding. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bill turning bright red with fury. Perfect. Taking advantage of the situation, I kiss him again, lingering a bit, relishing the taste of him mouth against mine. 

Bill stood up, moving towards us, and Mulder and I took this as the initiative to leave. 

"Bye Mom," I say, hugging her quickly, then moving out the door. Mulder does the same and her runs with me to the car before the wrath of Big Brother Bill comes upon us. 

By the tie we are in the car, buckled in, we are laughing like hyenas. 

"Did... you see... his face when..." I couldn't continue, I was laughing too hard and Mulder seemed to agree with me. 

"You're going to be in trouble with your mother, you know," he says after the laughter subsides. 

"Why do you say that, Mulder?" 

"Scully, I'm not dumb. Your mother has been sending us signals since day one. I mean, come on, Scully. When Harry Met Sally? I do see the point of that movie. And I don't need my Oxford education to know what she meant when handing me this." 

He pulled out a silver, quarter-sized package, and as soon as I realize what it is, I blush furiously. I could kill my mother right now. She bought Mulder a condom. 

"Oh boy," I mutter, turning my eyes back to the road in front of me. I have to keep repeating one of the Ten Commandments in my head to keep us from spiraling out of control. 

Honor thy father and mother, Honor thy father and mother. Honor thy father and mother. But, when God wrote those, they didn't have condoms. Or my mother, for that matter. 

"Yeah," Mulder says, "I don't think that display we put on helped any in convincing my mother that we're just friends." 

"I don't anything will convince her of that, Mulder. Mom very much wants a love life for me and she just doesn't understand that my job doesn't permit for me to settle down." I sigh deeply. I do love my mother, don't get me wrong, and she has the right idea, just she gets carried away. 

"Except with someone else who's as submersed in your work as you are. Namely me." 

"No, Mom just likes you." We laugh heartily. 

I pull up to Mulder's apartment. "Good night, Mulder." 

"Night, Scully. I'll pick you up at six so we can grab dinner." He unfastens his seatbelt, smiling sweetly at me. 

"Sounds great." He opens the door, "Oh! And Mulder?" 

"Yeah, Scully?" He pokes his head back in. 

"It's a formal event, so that means no Marvin the Martian ties." 

"I can't promise anything, but I'll try." Grinning he closes the door and saunters into the building. 

* * *

I'm not usually this self conscious, really I'm not. I don't know why this is so different. It shouldn't be. I mean, its not like this thing with Mulder is a date or anything. It's not. Funny how I'm still trying to convince myself of that very thing. 

We're just two friends, going out to dinner and then to a Christmas party-slash-dance. In formal wear, curled hair, and expensive shoes. Okay, so maybe it is somewhat of a date. But only a little. Right Dana, real convincing. 

In inspect my image once more. The dress I bought this morning is absolutely gorgeous. It wasn't cheap either, but as I look at my reflection, it was worth every penny. 

The dark green satin clings tastefully to my curves, then flares out dramatically at my hips. The elegance of the simple dress strikes me just as it had in the store window this morning. 

It compliments me well, the dark emerald hues bringing out the blue of my eyes and the red in my hair. Also, it shows off my curves and small waist, making for a breathtaking combination. 

My hair is pulled up, corkscrew curls piled on top of my head, with two of them falling down to gently frame my face. I've never really been fond of my hair-color, but I can see now that that may change. 

The deep auburn tones are mixed with brighter reds and darker browns, giving me a very sophisticated appearance. 

I splurged when I went shopping, but my biggest purchase, next to the dress, was my shoes. I've always had sort of a shoe fetish. My closet is full of them. 

This particular pair, however, is different than the ones I normally buy. They are black sandals, with a two inch feel. Black velvet straps weave their way around my small foot and up my delicate ankle, stopping at the point where joint ends and calf begins. They are dusted with a faint silver sparkle that is noticeable, but not too pronounced. These are the best damn shoes I own. Well worth the money I shelled out for them. 

I must say, I went all out for this non-date. I even treated myself to a French manicure. If Mulder doesn't drop dead I his tracks when he sees me, I may have to do it for him. 

I don't have a whole lot of time to contemplate this, however, because there is a polite knock at my bedroom door. Mulder must have let himself int. Or maybe I just didn't hear him knock on the door to my apartment. 

Running my hands down the silky fabric one last time, I shyly open the door. Tonight I have a date with destiny. Or rather a non-date with my partner. 

"Hey, Mulder," I say, attempting nonchalance, though the butterflies in my stomach directly contradict my tone of voice. 

He looks utterly stunning. I see him in suits every day, but this seems different. It is different. 

Mulder is wearing the classic black tux, but he brings something special to it, something so undeniably phenomenal, it could be an X-Files in itself. 

His eyes are examining me, up and down and I can tell he likes what he is witnessing by his speechlessness. 

"I said, hi Mulder," I remind him with a smile. Obviously, this dress is having the desire effect. 

"Scully," he says, "You look absolutely gorgeous." His voice is soft, just above a whisper. Maybe we shouldn't be in my bedroom just now. This dress would be way too easy to remove. 

I smile timidly; those butterflies in my stomach are having a field day. 

"Thank you, Mulder," I say leading us away from temptation, and into the living room. "You don't look half bad yourself." I never was one to shower a person with compliments, so I will settle for something subtle, hoping that Mulder will pick up the real message. 

He does, and holding his arm out to me, he escorts me to his car. 

The ride to the restaurant is short and generally silent, not counting the soft Christmas music playing on the radio. 

The restaurant Mulder chose, Little Italy, is tucked away in west DC, sandwiched between a hair salon and a large corporate building. Though I love Italian food, I have never ventured out to this quaint little place. How Mulder knew my food preferences aside from McDonald's and Pizza Hut, is beyond me. We haven't discussed it; Mulder and I don't talk much about our personal lives, not that we really have them. 

With our work, it doesn't give us much time fore friends or dating. No that we haven't tried, of course. I still talk to Ellen every once in a blue moon, but he last guy I dated was Ed Jersey. And he doesn't really count. I was angry at Mulder, angry at 'Them' for my cancer, just generally angry. I let my anger get the best of me, dispelling my sense of reason. 

Mulder has had his share of women too. _cough_ _cough_ Detective White _cough_ Diana _cough_

But, in general, both of us have been fairly celibate. 

I still wish I knew how Mulder knew I like Italian food. Maybe he didn't, maybe it was just a lucky guess, I don't know. 

The waiter seats us at the small table in the back of the restaurant, where there was more privacy and dimmer lighting. The intimacy of the place surprised me, hitting a place deep in my heart, stirring up emotions long forgotten. 

"This is really nice, Mulder." I say over the menu I've been handed. "But, are you sure you're really Mulder? Don't tell me Eddie Van Blundht escaped from jail." 

He smiles wryly, remembering that night of years ago. I think he's still bitter about it. 

"It's me this time, Scully. I promise. Although I wouldn't have minded being Eddie Van Blundht, tail and all, a couple years ago." 

I can't believe he said that. The night Van Blundht, looking like Mulder, almost kissed me, has been safely locked away in that box marked 'Untouchables' for almost three years now. 

"Mulder, I..." 

"What happened that night, Scully? What happened before I came in and saw... saw what I did?" he asks out of what I'm sure is genuine curiosity. Still, a blush creeps up my neck, and I bow my head, trying to hide the sudden burst of color. 

Regaining my composure, I attempt to answer his question as best I can. "Well, Mulder, you- he came by my apartment carrying a bottle of wine, which I thought was strange, but I ignored it." I keep my voice hollow, detached as to not let any wayward emotion enter my speech. 

"I should have known right then. Looking back now, I can see how stupid I was, how blind. There were a million thing that should have clued me off that he wasn't you. Like his whole purpose for being there." 

Mulder interrupts me, "Seducing you?" 

I grimace at the memory. It still has the power to make me shudder, "Not at first. He said... he said that we never talked, really talked, and he wanted to know why, and I'll admit it, I did too. 

"Anyway, he got me talking about things, memories. I really should have known then, if not earlier. It's a classic manipulative strategy. He had me talk, focusing entirely on me, and always avoiding my questions. But I didn't see it and I got started on some story." 

"Then?" 

"Then he asked if I regretted anything and I kind of didn't answer the question. And, well you know the rest." The last part is spoken hurriedly. I really don't want to get into this, not now. Not ever, if truth be told. The situation was highly embarrassing and I'd rather not have to discuss it. 

"No, Scully, I don't know. There's quite a gap between what you just said and what I saw." 

Thankfully, my prayers have been answered. A waiter approached us. 

"Can I take your orders?" He seems to be a polite young man, and handsome at that. Not my type however. 

I answer immediately, afraid to let my chance at postponing conversation pass, "Yes, I'd like the angel hair pasta with shrimp and an iced tea." 

Mulder and I shared a look. Both of us know the significance of my order, my drink specifically. 

//If there's iced tea in that bag, it could be love// 

That was way in the beginning, our first year as partners. His words have stuck with me all the years, and I have carried iced tea in my fridge ever since. 

"I'll have the same," Mulder says to the waiter, his eyes never leaving mine. 

When our food came, we ate peacefully, casual chit-chat passing for actual conversation. 

Though Mulder didn't being Eddie Van Blundht up again, I get the sinking feeling that that particular subject is far from closed. 

Mulder paid the check and once again escorted me by the arm to his vehicle. I could really get used to this. 

I swear, he must get a new car every six months, but in our line of work, it's almost inevitable. I can't count how many times we've wrecked the car, whether it be a rental or one of our own. 

This time, it's a deep red Bonneville, with a tan leather interior, CD player and working air conditioning. It's the nicest car he's had in years. 

It's a cool, clear night, the winter air slightly nippy for Washington DC, but pleasantly so. There must be a million stars in the sky tonight. 

I'm gazing out he window, into the ebony sky that twinkles with life. It is times like these that makes me wonder what's really out there. As I constantly tell Mulder, I don't believe in aliens, and I'm honest when I way that, but its nice to wonder sometimes. Staring into the sky can provide endless hours of entertainment. 

When I was younger, I knew a bunch of the constellations and how to locate them. I only remember a handful, but now, staring out my window into the starry sky, I can't help but search for the ones I recollect. 

The Big Dipper, the north star, Pegasus. 

"We're here," Mulder says as we pull up to the dance hall rented out by the Bureau for the night. It is a large white building, not unlike the ones you'd expect to see here in Washington. 

Mulder opens my door for me and helps me out of the car. He thinks I don't notice these small, trivial gestures, but that's what I notice the most. The opening of doors, pulling out of chairs, the strong hand at the small of my back, a place in which he has claimed as his own. Those gestures I hold dear, cherishing the gentleman in him that provokes him to do such things. 

For not only has Mulder laid claims on the small of my back, but my heart as well. 

I accept again the arm he offers, and we stroll grandly into the building. 

As soon as Skinner sees us enter, he walks over to greet us. 

"I see you two decided to come after all." He nods approvingly. "But where are your dates?" 

Mulder and I share a quick glance that said, 'What do we do?' 

"Well, sir," I say cautiously, "my date, William, his mother had a stroke earlier this afternoon. She's going to be fine, but he felt he needed to be with her. It was a traumatic time for all involved." I am not a good liar, never have been, but when I have to, I can tell a story without flubbing it up too much. From the acceptance on Skinner's face, I must have done pretty well. 

"And the woman I was going with, Katherine, got angry at me." 

"What for, Agent Mulder?" 

"Well, sir, she was jealous of the time I spend at work and with Agent Scully." Apparently, Mulder is a worse liar than I am. 

I sigh with relief as Skinner turns to leave. "Understandable. Oh, and Agents? I do know you middle names. I'm just glad you're coming around." And with that he left. 

Coming around? What did he mean by that? Of course, I know what he meant. Half the Bureau thinks we're sleeping together, and now I get to add my boss to that list. 

"Don't pay attention to him, Scully. Come on, lets dance." 

He pulls me onto the dance floor, and I somewhat reluctantly fold into his arms. Just as I expected, his touch is electric. But it feels good. 

His arms wrap around my slim waist and mine go around his neck. His thumbs rub circles at my hips, the silk of my dress moving with him. 

As the last notes of 'White Christmas' drain away, a new song replaces it. I recognize it immediately. This song has reminded me of the relationship between Mulder and myself since the first time I heard it on the radio years ago. 

//It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart// 

Mulder pulls me closer and I rest my head on his shoulder, oblivious to the other FBI agents that surround us. The words being sung still hit me in a way I can't even begin to describe. 

//Without saying a word, you can light up the dark// 

He can do that that by just walking into a room, looking into my eyes. I don't know how he does it, it must be some trait specific to Mulder. 

Closing my eyes, I block out everything and wallow in Mulder, in his scent, his essence. He smells of peppermint and after-shave, and on his breath is the wafty scent of sunflower seeds. I sigh and again allow the music to flow through my ears. 

//The smile on your face lets me know that you need me.// 

He does. Need me. Mulder's even told em so. Right before he tried to kiss me in his hallway. Again, I say 'Damn bee'. 

He needs me as much as I need him. I've never actually told him that however. I have a tendency to view need as a weakness, a vulnerability. Before Mulder, I say those as negative qualities. Now, need is a sacred thing. 

The FBI being a male dominated filed, I had to work extra hard for my respect and independence. I had thought that to allow myself to be dependent on another was to lose everything I had toiled to earn. Dignity, respect, equality. 

Only now do I see how wrong I was. My reliance on Mulder has only made me stronger than I ever could have been alone. 

//There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me.// 

I frown. Not entirely true. How many times has Mulder ditched me to pursue one of his vague leads? I lost count. 

But he's always come back to me. Most recently, he went gallivanting off into the Bermuda Triangle, nearly getting himself drowned in the process. He did come back, alive and well. Physically well anyway. I couldn't say the same for his mental state. All the talk about Nazi's and a 1939 cruise liner caused me to doubt his wellness. I saved the world, indeed. The only thing he said that I would even want to consider is when he told me he loved me. Of course, he was riding so high on Demerol, he should have been cruising Never Never Land. Right? 

//The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall.// 

As he pulls my body closer to his, I think about that last line. Mulder is always touching me. Not in a sexual way, mind you, but a comforting one. 

A guiding hand at the small of my back, or my forearm, the lingering touches to my face. He's always there. I can't tell you how many times he's saved me with that touch, those hands. 

//You say it best when you say nothing at all.// 

That pretty much sums it up. Our silent communication baffles our boss and co-workers, and continually amazes me. It's almost funny, in the funny-strange kind of way. With one look, I know what he's thinking and half the time I agree. If I believed in that sort of stuff, I'd say we were connected psychically. Missy would say that. In fact, she said something like it in the weeks before her death. 

She told me, "Dana, you and Mulder have been together since the beginning of time. Your auras are intertwined. Never has one been without the other." 

At the time, I brushed it off as her New Age mumbo-jumbo, but now I'm starting to see the truth in her words. That's why the whole Melissa Ephesian ordeal was so devastating. I wasn't his soul mate, she was. 

His voice brings me back to reality. "Come on, Scully. There's something I want to show you." 

We break apart, the music still ringing in my ears as he leads me by the hand out the back door. 

The crisp winter air hits me full force, and I shiver a little. Mulder must have noticed, because he removed his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. I put my arms through the sleeves, only to find them much too long. Laughing slightly, I roll up the sleeves several times so I could see my hands. 

"A little big, huh, Scully?" He laughs also, and seeks my now visible left hand, taking it in his own. 

"Where are we going?" I ask as we follow some unknown path. 

"Just trust me, Scully," he says. 

"Okay," I reply, simply enjoying the fact that I'm with him. 

We walk a little longer before he stops in his tracks. "Close you eyes," he whispers gently. 

Curiosity has always been my downfall, "Why, Mulder?" 

"Just do it. Trust me." 

I close my eyes, "You know you're the only one I trust." Sappy, I know, but true. So completely true. 

I'm careful not to trip as he leads me. I am tempted more than once to open my eyes just a crack, and as if on cue, he calls my desire to my attention. 

"No peeking, Scully. You'll see when we get there." 

When we stopped and he allowed me to open my eyes, my breath was taken away. We are in what must be the most beautiful garden I think I've ever seen. Even in the dead of winter, it is beautiful, with some of the heartier red roses still in full bloom. But it not the plants that catch my eye, it is the location. 

Walls of shrubbery tower above us, walls I should recognize but don't. "Mulder, where are we?" 

"We, Scully, have just entered a maze." 

I laugh merrily. This is so typical Mulder. It figures he'd want to turn our first non-date into an enigma, a puzzle to be solved. 

Looking ahead, I see a fork in the path. Noticing my gaze, Mulder nods at the two branching off roads. "Which way, Scully?" 

I pretend to consider, though my mind has already been made up. "Lets go right." 

He gives me a knowing smile and we take the right fork, our hands still clasped. 

This is so amazing. It feels like I've died and gone to heaven, his jacket around me and his hand in mine. I'm not sure if it could get any better than this. 

"Did you kiss him?" Mulder asks quietly. 

Instantly I know who he's talking about. But his time, I'm more than ready to answer his questions. 

"No, Mulder, I didn't." 

"But would you have, if I hadn't..." 

"Yes, Mulder. He listened to me, was interested in what I had to say. Eddie Van Blundht fooled me, I know that. I did all the talking ignoring the fact that he was doing thing that you wouldn't have in a million years. I was tricked by a con. Not something I'm especially proud of, but it's the truth. Van Blundht may have fooled me by making me feel like a woman again, but he taught me something about myself." 

Eddie Van Blundht taught me how much I want my partner when he leaned in to kiss me. 

"I would have kissed him, Mulder, but only for one reason. The same reason I ignored the evidence that he wasn't who he appeared to be." 

"Why Scully?" His voice is soft, tentative, as though afraid. He knows the answer, but I decide to say it anyway. I think he needs to hear it as much as I need to say it. 

"Because I wanted so badly for it to be you." 

Throughout the conversation we have twisted and turned in the maze, arbitrarily choosing paths, not sure of where they will lead us. 

It all winds down to this last fork in the road, 

"It's the last one, Scully," he comments looking at the choice we have. "Which way?" 

I study the two intensely, knowing beyond a doubt that this choice can and will effect the rest of my life. 

It sounds silly, I know, but it's true. Don't ask me how, because I don't know. In a regular maze, if you took a wrong turn, you can always go back and take the correct path, but not now. In this puzzle, there is no turning back. 

Studying my choices again, I see the bottle of iced tea on the left fork, and the root beer on the right. I replay the words again in my head. 

//If there's iced tea in that bag, it could be love.// 

//Must be fate, it's root beer.// 

Swallowing, I speak. "Well, I want to choose iced tea," I measure my words carefully, "But I'm afraid of the consequences." 

He's looking at me intently, "Iced tea would be worth it, Scully." 

"But what if I dropped my glass of iced tea and it broke? I wouldn't be able to take it." 

He moves closer, invading my personal space yet again. "You won't, Scully." 

With his infectious confidence and my own convictions based on faith and love alone, I choose the left path with Mulder close behind me. 

In front of us is an unfolding scene of sheer beauty. A wooden gazebo is in the center of a small pond, candle light from the many tiny candles floating in the water illuminating the architectural splendor. 

Mulder takes my and together we cross the bridge leading to the heart-shaped structure. He presses a button and music fills the air. "May I have this dance?" 

"You most certainly may." And for the second time tonight, he pulls me into his arms, swaying softly to the music. 

//All I am, all I'll be 

Everything in this world 

All that I'll ever need 

Is in your eyes 

Shining at me 

When you smile I can feel 

All my passion unfolding 

Your hand brushes mine 

And a thousand sensations 

Seduce me cause I// 

At the chorus, Mulder begins to sing, bring joyous tear to my blue eyes. His voice isn't half bad, but the words he sings touch my heart in ways I can't explain. 

//I do cherish you 

For the rest of my life 

You don't have to think twice 

I will love you still 

From the depths of my soul 

It's beyond my control 

I've waited so long to say this to you 

If you're asking do I love you this much 

I do.// 

The song continues to play, but I don't notice. Mulder has me captivated. Suddenly I have the answer to every question I have ever asked myself about him. It's all in his eyes. 

Do I want him? Yes. Do I love him? Yes. Am I in love with him? Hell yes. 

"I love you," he murmurs into my ear as I hold him closer. 

"And I, you. Very much, Mulder." 

We pull apart slightly, so I can get a good look at him. He looks utterly delighted, like he didn't believe it possible that I could love him just as much as he loves me. 

"Look up, Scully." I do, and see a clump of mistletoe hanging above my head. 

"You sneaky little...." My words are interrupted by his lips pressing to mine. 

Our kiss is tender and gentle, everything a first kiss should be, but I grow impatient. I force my tongue into his mouth, not that Mulder's protesting a whole lot. Quite the opposite actually. He kisses me with such a passion that it is nearly overwhelming. I could drown in this kiss, yet I could live like this forever. Except that I need to breathe. 

We separate simultaneously, both of us in desperate need of oxygen. 

"I _smack_ Love. _smack_ You. _smack_ " I declare in between kisses. 

"I love you too, Dana." 

"Come on Mulder, let's go home. I hear it's supposed to pour sleeping bags in Georgetown later and I wouldn't want to miss it," I leer at him. 

Smiling, he again takes my hand and we exit the maze. "Hey Scully?" 

"Yeah Mulder?" 

"Merry Christmas." 

The heavens opened and snow began to fall. The joy has been restored to my holiday season, thanks in part to Mulder, but also by my own doings. 

Though nothing can replace my losses, Mulder's love and help ease the pain. I can face it now. Emily is gone, Missy and Ahab too. There's nothing I can do to bring them back. But I can move on. It's what they would have wanted. 

The snow is still falling and Mulder is still holding my hand. 

Life is good. 

**END!**

* * *

Authors' Notes: Just my little piece of holiday fluff. Yup, Christmas in August. I don't know why exactly I wrote this, I just felt like it.... I'd really appreciate feedback, both good and constructive. I'm young and just beginning, so constructive criticism is especially valued. Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this.   
  


#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Caroline McKenna


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